Living Circle's Library
by KrisEleven
Summary: A collection of unrelated Circle of Magic one-shots. Take a browse through Winding Circle's famed library for tales of the people living in its world. Chapter 10, Glitter and Gold: Niko didn't wander because he was lost.
1. Bedtime Stories

A/N Welcome to Living Circle's Library. Hopefully you enjoy your time flicking through these tales. I write for a few challenges and often end up with quite a few one-shots (at the end of Fief Goldenlake competitions, especially). Some of them have ended up on themes that can get collected into their own stories, like Exaltation for Lark-based tales, or Never Did Run Smooth for Rosethorn/Crane stories of snark. Some, though, don't have a home and since I don't want my profile cluttered with all of these homeless tales, this library has been created. I will be adding to it some of the short one-shots that are currently posted as their own stories, but only if they are under 1000 words. Anything over that can stand on its own. The stories won't be in any order, of course, but I'll put a small mention of where they first appeared and their time-frame at the beginning. Enjoy!

This story was written for Goldenlake's Summer Olympics. It takes place shortly after _Shatterglass_.

* * *

It was the first time the little girl had ever been on a ship; she had been born in Tharios, and had probably never been taken out of Khapik, let alone the city. The fun of the sparkling water and looking for dolphins and watching the sailors climb the ropes faded away when darkness fell and she was asked to sleep in a bed she didn't know, when her tummy hurt from the motion of the boat and she was afraid a sea-monster would come or the boat would sink or Tris would fall over the side and leave her forever.

Little Bear cuddled up close to her, but it wasn't the same as Tris, who made her feel like nothing bad could happen. Glaki wanted to go get her, but Tris had made her promise not to leave the little room they were sleeping in, so Glaki sat in her bed with her face buried in the Bear's fur and cried.

Tris was on deck watching the stars. They looked better no where else – even roofs or towers or temple walls didn't let her see _everything_ like this wide, round horizon did. She was searching for constellations she knew only from books when a breeze fluttered past her, bringing her its report from Glaki's room. Tris pushed herself to her feet and made her way back below-deck to comfort her charge.

Opening the door, she looked in at the mess Glaki made of herself. Her hair was sticking to the sides of her face, her cheeks were splotchy and red, her eyes were swollen. Little Bear, from his captivity in Glaki's arms, thumped his tail noisily against the bed at the sound of Tris's arrival. Glaki sniffed loudly.

"What if a sea-monster gets us?" she asked.

Tris was, as always, baffled by the jump in logic the little girl's mind could come up with, but didn't laugh. "Even if sea-monsters exist, they wouldn't come near this boat," she said, half believing it herself. "Think of how upset Niko'd be, if they were that rude."

Glaki, who had a very high opinion of Tris's teacher, accepted this, wide-eyed. She took a deep, quivering breath and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. Tris shooed Little Bear to the floor and sat on the bed while she pulled out a handkerchief to do the job properly.

Tucking the girl back into the sheets, Tris smoothed her hair.

"Don't leave!" Glaki pleaded, holding onto Tris's hand.

"Not until you fall asleep," Tris promised. Glaki opened her eyes wide and fought back a yawn, trying to keep Tris with her as long as she could.

"Story," she requested, her eyes already drooping.

Tris thought frantically for something. She had never had stories told to her, that she could recall. She had been reading biographies and histories and reference books since she was old enough to read, children's tales not provided in her cousin's house, and then, later, out of her interests. What kind of stories did little girls like?

Her siblings came to mind, and Tris smiled. She had enough stories from their adventures to talk her ward to sleep. She picked one of her favourites and began talking in a low voice.

"Long ago," she said softly, "there was a sad tree living in a house of glass. No one knew why the tree was sad, certainly not the boy who watched it from outside, but the boy loved all plants and couldn't bear to leave the tree alone. The boy was, among other things, a thief, and one day he snuck inside the house of glass and took the tree! Now, he didn't know that the tree belonged to a cranky old man named Crane. When the boy grabbed the tree, the cranky Crane came running out and chased him down the street! Oh, the thief boy was faster, but he had the tree above his head, and he nearly didn't make it home. Luckily, there was a noble girl there to lock the gate, hiding him from the cranky –"

Tris paused, looking down at Glaki for a long moment. The girl didn't stir, her eyelashes against her cheeks and her breathing deep and even. Tris brushed hair from Glaki's forehead and kissed it lightly before she stood up slowly, trying not to let the bed creak or rock and wake its cargo.

"Stay off the bed, Bear," she said as she opened the door. Little Bear looked up at her mournfully. "I don't care; I don't want to have fur all over my pillow. It gets in my mouth. Guard." Little Bear huffed and sighed deeply as he laid his head down between his paws, sulking as she closed the door behind her.

Tris returned to her spot on deck, setting her breezes up again to bring her sounds from the small room, in case her girl woke up again and needed her. She sat back, hands behind her head and gazed up at the stars, her mind on tree-thieves, noble guardians and a cranky Crane. She laughed, softly, but it still carried over the sound of the waves.


	2. Unbeing Dead

Also for Goldenlake's Summer Olympics, this takes place during the end of _Briar's Book_, before the last bit that jumps ahead to summer.

* * *

At first, being _alive_ took up much of Rosethorn's energy. As she built up strength to do more than just sit up in bed and force her mouth to shape sounds it had forgotten, more tasks were added until there were weeds to pull and four rowdy children to corral and medicines to replenish and Lark to reassure and Crane to ignore and harvest and services and speaking and lessons. Rosethorn didn't have time to think about that garden on the other side and how much easier it was there than here.

So she dreamt about it, and all she had lost in coming back. Because she _had_ lost, even if no one (even if Rosethorn, especially) refused to acknowledge it. There had been peace and health and rest there, and Rosethorn was so very tired. All the responsibilities and all her shortcomings wore at her, and to have that lifted just showed how much weight she was carrying.

To have it put back upon her showed how very heavy it was.

In her dreams, she is standing in the garden and, just for a moment, she can feel herself able to relax. She looks around and knows that she is _home_ and at peace. But at the end of the dream, she turns expecting to see Briar standing there and the pathway out of the garden is closed, her boy has not come.

Rosethorn wakes up crying.

Because she lost something, coming back, but she knew very well what she was doing. Tomorrow, she will have breakfast with Lark and the children and give Briar his lessons while they sit in the sun of her garden together. Perhaps Crane will stop by to bicker with her. She will love the girls and she will kiss Lark and she will look around Discipline and know she is where she belongs. She will live. It will be hard; maybe not tomorrow, but it will be hard again, someday, and Rosethorn will remember peace that was lost to her.

She will not regret coming back. Maybe un-being dead is harder than expected, but being alive... it is worth it.

It is worth it all.


	3. Misplaced Bets

Another from Goldenlake's Summer Olympics (I can't say enough good things about their events... if you haven't found them, yet, I would be more than happy to get you the link, just PM or review for it). This one is initially set in _Briar's Book _and sort of runs to prior _Magic Steps_.

* * *

Most of the bets were set for the same day. He was in a _foul_ mood, as far as Crane's moodiness went and no one expected the young red-head scribe to last longer than it took him to give her one scathing look.

Then she walked in, adjusted her spectacles, and sat down to work. The few willing to give her a chance, either because they had heard of her or through some lucky guess, collected their money outside the greenhouse that day.

When Niklaren tried to take her out, Crane _fought_ for her, those who heard that particular story were left either dumb-founded or utterly disbelieving. Even those who had already won money hadn't given her more than a week before Crane tired of her, but she stayed until the very end of the plague.

Afterward, she was a regular installation in the greenhouse. She stood apart from the others, dedicates and novices both, who worked there – as much through her own temper as through theirs. Crane's students lasted longer than his plague-time assistants, but not by much. One mistake in his domain was enough to get oneself thrown out. Everybody walked on eggshells... everyone but her. It was enough to set her apart. She honestly didn't seem to notice.

Years passed, and the chubby ten year old grew into herself, and she still came to work with Crane. There was no camaraderie between them (that would have been too much for Crane's people to understand), but when interrupted, they gave the offending party the exact same look, which was enough to scare anyone away. Their silences were efficient; his lectures understood immediately; her questions welcome.

The bets had given Trisana Chandler less than a day before Crane threw her out of his life. Four years later, she walked out of Winding Circle with Goldeye to travel the world.

Her desk sat, untouched in Crane's corner of his greenhouse, until she returned.


	4. Faltering Vines

A/N I will be happy to get my profile cleaned up, but do regret losing the reviews these old stories received when they were posted on their own. This one is the first that is being moved here from its original posting on its own. It was written for the March challenge at TPE, probably in 2011. Sweet Sassy Sarah beta'd it for me. As you can see, it was a structure challenge where each line had to have one fewer words than the previous.

* * *

Rosethorn took a deep breath as she drew faltering magic.

Vines tightened around Yanjing soldiers, cutting off their breath.

She watched them die, trying to find remorse.

Difficult; they had tried to kill her.

"Rosethorn!" Briar shouted, a soldier's tone.

He hadn't yet sensed it.

Her power was failing.

One more spell.

Save them...

Briar.


	5. Family

A/N Another from a Goldenlake event, I think... the SMACKDOWN, I'm fairly sure. It takes place between the Circle of Magic and Circle Opens series. This is another that you may have seen before; it was posted as a stand-alone last year.

* * *

Briar didn't know what it meant to have family. He remembered only vaguely the idea of being taken care of, before that was replaced with the 'safety' of corners where he could put his back and alleys with enough garbage to hide in and the protection of the Thief Lord, who was as likely as any to hurt you but at least who protected you sometimes, too.

He knew what it was like to have mates. He had his fair share of boys and girls he would die for, back when he was Roach. It was all you had, when you lived in a street gang and the world was bigger and stronger than you and _just didn't care_ if it hurt when it trampled over your ignored body.

He and the girls, they were like that. Sandry flipping the latch on the gate and smacking the hand of an angry novice, Daja twirling her staff as she came to his aid in a street fight, Tris throwing up her hands while cannonballs came towards their position on the wall... these were things he could identify. These were things that made them his mates, made him willing to fight for them.

So when Sandry called them a family, and introduced him as her foster-brother, Briar just scowled and kicked his foot against the ground. He didn't know what that meant, but judging from the stubborn glint in Sandry's eyes as she looked over at him, he was sure he would find out.


	6. Sleeping on the Ground

A/N Another from a SMACKDOWN event. This takes place sometime in the circle early years together, but I didn't bother setting it in a particular scenario; it was just a fun little scene between the four.

* * *

Tris looked around the clearing suspiciously. "I don't understand," she said finally, her words sharp with the suspicion that she was on the outside of a joke.

"What is there to _get_, Merchant Girl?" Daja hid her amusement well, but there was a trace of it in the corner of her mouth, which threatened to rise into a smile. "This is where we're spending the night."

"Haven't you ever slept out of doors before?" Briar asked, his tone innocent. Tris wasn't taken in by either of them, and her glare threatened to ignite the bedrolls they were unpacking, or her siblings themselves; she wasn't particular on which.

_Oh, stop it you too._ Sandry scolded. "Tris, it's fine. I've slept out of doors lots of times."

"You."

Sandry nodded. "On the road with my mother and father. When we couldn't get to an inn, or if something happened to one of the carriages or horses, we would set up camp. It's fun."

"We are going to be sleeping in the _dirt_ with _bugs_ and you think it will be _fun_?" Tris's tone was dangerously icy. Daja and Briar exchanged glances. They had known it would be best if this idea was introduced only when they were too far away for Tris to turn back home.

"You'll be able to see the stars," Sandry said, with sudden inspiration.

Tris looked up overhead at the clear sky between the tree-tops. The three waited until Tris looked back down, nodded, and began to unpack her bedroll from the pack Briar had handed her that morning.

Sandry sighed with relief.

Briar and Daja exchanged a glance. _What's the bet I can make her squeal if I talk about spiders before we fall asleep?_

_I'll bet you get _fried_, Briar._

_Deal._


	7. Conversations

A/N This was posted as stand-alone without a note to remind me of why I wrote it. It was probably another SMACKDOWN fic, though. Technically, it takes place following _Will of the Empress_, but it is AU.

* * *

"Are you going to tell them, then?"

"Tell them what?" Briar asked, his grey-green eyes flicking away from the too-knowing gaze that accosted him with an I-see-through-you grin.

"About how you walked out on the mind healer, for starters."

"They don't need to know."

"Why not?" The tone of the question was more amused than concerned.

"They'd only worry," Briar said, infusing his tone with as much annoyed air as possible in order to sound convincing; but whether this was for his companion or himself, even he wasn't sure.

"They would whine and complain and _nag_, yes? Act like sniffer-skirts and _girls_ and make things more difficult?"

"No..." He tried to collect his thoughts. It was a task more difficult, these days, to do. "Sandry would glare at me with those too-blue eyes and demand that I obey –"

"Annoying little noble-ess."

" – and I would be drawn into fighting with her until I didn't care about talking it all out with you anymore."

"Ah. Not the Bag-girl, then. And not the weather-witch. No need to bring her rages and scornful looks into it."

"Tris would know exactly how not to look at me," Briar said, his voice slightly wistful. "She would make me see reason."

"Too dangerous, this reason. Dangerous like forge-smoke and smiths' tools..."

"...because Daja wouldn't see it as nonsense, but she would blow away all the things that are clouding me up... like you."

"Yes, I do make it difficult to see the way."

"And the girls could get rid of you. Any one of them."

"But you don't want me gone, and that is the problem, isn't it, Briar Moss? Because someone has to suffer the weight of the guilt for all the blood and guts and suffering of that distant place, and who better than you to carry the pain inside for all of them?"

There was knocking on his bedroom door that had been going on too long, but Briar didn't get up to answer.

He sat and stared at himself in the mirror, his expression changing as if he argued with himself, until Tris and Daja broke the door down.


	8. Skate Away

A/N Last one of the already-posted fics, so from now on they will be posted only as I have short one-shots with no where else to go. I already have over a dozen views on the fic, I've noticed, which is great. Follow or review!

This one was for TPE. I started a Seven Days of Midwinter challenge last Decemer where we had seven writing challenges with a holiday theme throughout the month. It was fun, so it will be running again this December. Check it out. :) This challenge was to write a story based off a line from a holiday song. My line was: "I wish I had a river I could skate away on". I wrote about Daja, set in the midst of _Will of the Empress_.

* * *

Daja threw herself on her bed as soon as she was in her room alone, away from the prying eyes on the Namornese court. She didn't want any word of her tears to get back to Rizu. Bad enough she didn't care enough about what they had to come to Emelan –

Daja buried her head in her pillow and tried to cry as quietly as possible.

* * *

After Tris left, Daja lay in bed thinking. She knew this ache would pass, but for now it was too sharp to ignore. She missed Rizu already, and they were still in the same city. How would she feel in a week, outside Namorn? A month, when she was back in Summersea?

But even though she had to brush at her cheeks at the thought, Daja didn't want to stay in Namorn, away from the life she had and the family she loved. She knew she had chosen the right path for her.

It hurt, but she had chosen right.

Trying to sleep was going to be impossible; Daja tossed and turned before she lay flat on her back and breathed in the meditation pattern. Thinking of Emelan made her a disturbing mix of home- and heart-sick, so instead she thought of something that didn't remind her of Rizu at all: learning to skate four winters previous. It had taken all her concentration then to keep the rhythm of the skates so that she could fly along the frozen canals, and Daja fell into that rhythm in her mind.

Her breathing steadied and she slept, and in her dreams Daja flew along the ice.


	9. Coming Home Whole

**A/N** This was written for Goldenlake's Advent Calendar challenge, which is to have a prompt each day leading up to Christmas. This one was 'homecoming'.

**Summary: **The four come home from Namorn

* * *

Light flickered from the windows of the small cottage, warm and welcoming, as the four stood on the pathway outside. They took a moment to admire the sight in front of them without slowing their movements, took the time to look to the familiar sights and small changes and all that spelled out _home_ to them all, but didn't stop unlatching the gate and filing into the yard and walking towards the door. Because it had been a _long_ time since they had been in this place, even though they had left for Namorn only a summer before. Because coming home trapped in your own head and lonely and angry and alone was not the same as coming home _whole_.

Each was a comforting presence in the others' minds as they reached the door and looked at each other. There were dark corners they were not ready for the others to see, of course. Sandry had her resentments and Briar his regrets, Daja her guilt and Tris her deep-rooted fears, but those dark corners were small ones, now. And the light filtering out through Discipline's windows shone on them all.

Sandry opened the door. As one, they walked inside.


	10. Glitter and Gold

__**A/N **Written for the Advent Challenge prompt 'glitter and gold', over at Fief Goldenlake.

**Summary: **Niko didn't wander because he was lost.

* * *

_All that is gold does not glitter,_

_Not all those who wander are lost_

* * *

Niko had always had the gift of looking past the masks people put up to hide their hearts. Even as a child, he had been able to see through deceptions; to know when a smile held ill intent, when desperation was hiding in someone's heart, or to pick out the liars' ticks. It had always gotten him into trouble, driven him deeper to his books and maps; endless hours spent curled over parchment thinking of all the places he would go, where no one would know to avoid his uncomfortably astute gaze.

When he was old enough, he did leave his home. As a young man, he had already fallen into the habit of saying little, or hiding his nose in a book to avoid seeing what no one else could see. Because you didn't just _tell _people their past mistakes, their darkest secrets, their future sorrows. These things were hidden for a reason.

But he couldn't _not_ see them. So where did that leave him?

He wasn't the only one with a gift. Professors at university saw through his reserve and nurtured the intelligence there. Mages saw his gift as formidable, yes, but _extraordinary_ gift and tempted and prodded and tricked him into developing it. Colleagues challenged him. And friends met in temples and citadels and councils accepted him without reservations, no matter what he saw.

And his wandering became something else. Because he could very well have been lost, had no one looked to see the brightness that hid within.

In the depths of a plagued palace's cellars, in the angry scowl of a misunderstood girl, on the dark waves of a storm-tossed ocean, hidden behind street grime and tattooed hands, the greatest treasures waited, hidden.

Niko didn't wander because he was lost. He wandered because _they_ were, and it was his greatest gift to find them.


End file.
